


Humanity

by MagnetoTheMagnificent



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1920s, Ableist Language, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Autistic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), Historical References, Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), Insults, Late Night Conversations, Love Confessions, Misunderstandings, Other, Self-Esteem Issues, Smoking, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:07:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25836214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnetoTheMagnificent/pseuds/MagnetoTheMagnificent
Summary: Aziraphale returns from a trip to America, to find Crowley acting very different and withdrawn.Written for WhiteleyFoster's Jazz Baby DTIYS
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhiteleyFoster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteleyFoster/gifts).



Crowley waited anxiously at the port, scanning the arriving passengers for the distinct cloud of white hair. When she finally spotted him, she hastened her pace and nearly ran towards her old friend. 

"Angel," she greeted warmly, feeling comfort wash over her at seeing the familiar face.

Aziraphale smiled, his golden wrinkles threatening to shine through. 

"Hello, my dear," he said kindly, marble blue eyes brimming with joy. 

"How was the Hellscape?" Crowley asked, walking along the angel's side as they headed towards the cable car stop.

"The States?" Aziraphale chuckled, "boisterous as ever. Don't worry, I got your temptation in, dear."

"Even with the whole prohibition mess they've made?" 

"Dear, you know how the Americans are,"

"I know. S' why I didn't want to go," Crowley rolled her eyes.

"I thought it was because of your-"

Crowley shot him a look, and Aziraphale clamped his mouth shut. 

"How were the blessings?" Crowley asked quickly, leaning against a post. 

"Oh, you know how it is," he answered dismissively, "Crowley, dear, if you need to-"

The demon hissed between her teeth, and glared at Aziraphale.

"Trolley's here," she grunted. 

"And I must tell you, my dear, it's simply preposterous the lengths they go to in order to conceal their drink," Aziraphale described animatedly back at the Bookshop, now already a few glasses in of his own drink. 

Crowley snorted.

"Which reminds me, dear, I got you something while I was abroad!" the angel exclaimed, standing up to fetch his carpetbag. 

Crowley watched him curiously when he returned. 

"I believe they say 'tada!'" Aziraphale grinned, holding out a seemingly innocent looking cane.

Crowley shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and Aziraphale waited for a response. 

"Angel," she finally said, "I already have a cane, the snake one, you've seen it."

She didn't dare look up to see what no doubt was one of the angel's scrutinizing looks.

"Ah, but you see, this is no ordinary cane, my dear," Aziraphale added, touching the handle with the flourish of a seasoned performer. 

He deftly twisted the handle until it unscrewed, and he pulled it out to reveal a glass vial attached, discreetly hidden in the hollow cane. 

"A flask?" 

"Yes, isn't it clever?" 

Crowley took the cane gingerly, inspecting it. 

"Yessssssss, but…."

She looked away.

"But what?"

Aziraphale reached out to the demon, but she deftly avoided his touch. 

"Look, uh, it's really ssssweet that you got me a gift. I'll uh, owe you next trip"

"You don't owe-"

"It's getting late," she said with finality.  
"I have to go."

"Crowley-"

Aziraphale watched helplessly as Crowley made her way to the door. She didn't take the cane, yet Aziraphale could see the way she steadied herself on the tables and stacks of books in her path to the door. 

"Can we do lunch?" he called out in desperation.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you want, angel," she nodded distractedly, and ducked out the door. 

Aziraphale slumped in his seat. He had only been gone for a few months, and Crowley didn't seem at all like herself. He felt himself sink back into the feeling of loneliness that he had been in during the 19th century. He couldn't understand why Crowley was being so- withdrawn. Was it Hell?  
But after every other encounter with Downstairs, Crowley had been skittish and angry, not…. Whatever this new display was. Was it sadness? Fear? It was all very complicated, and Crowley certainly wasn't being very helpful.  
In fact, Aziraphale realized, she wasn't being very polite either. She hadn't even accepted her gift, a very rude gesture on her part. Of course Crowley was a demon, and she wasn't always the most respectful patron at a party, but she had never been outwardly disrespectful towards Aziraphale. Perhaps things had changed? 

A jolt of pain and the metallic taste of iron pulled the angel out of his hypotheticals. He looked down to find that he had been chewing at his fingernails, and had just teared skin. 

"Damn," he muttered, sucking on the abused finger to quelch the bleeding. 

With the grounding sensation, Aziraphale calmed enough to set his thoughts in order. 

He focused on what he knew.  
Crowley was acting very strange. Crowley was acting strange, and he had a gnawing suspicion that somehow, he was behind it, or at least making it worse. 

He glanced at the cane guiltily, feeling a pang of hurt. He had thought Crowley would have loved the gift. Crowley liked to drink, she sometimes used a cane, and she liked clandestine, secretive hiding spots. After all, her current cane concealed a sword!  
The more he thought about it, the more nothing seemed to make sense. Crowley was concerning him.  
Well, the night was still young, he figured, so he grabbed his coat and hat and set off towards his old friend's house.


	2. Chapter 2

"Thought I'd find you here," he said softly as he climbed onto the rooftop. 

He could make out the thin silhouette of the demon, sitting on top of the roof, gazing at the city lights. She made no move to respond.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. 

"You, uh, left your cane at the bookshop," he began tentatively, crawling closer to where she was sitting. 

She raised her head.

"Huh?" 

"I left it in your foyer. Crowley-"

Now she spoke. 

"Look, angel, I, uh, shouldn't've stormed out," she told him sheepishly.

"It's alright, dear, I-"

"No," she held out her hand to silence him.

"I was rude, and I at least owe you explanation for my behaviour, even if it's not an excuse."

"Crowley-"

"Angel, please, jussssst…. Let me talk. I know I'm a demon, but you're my only friend and I don't want to push you away. Especially for something so silly."

She paused, searching for the right words. 

"Angel, if I were human, would we still be friends?" 

Aziraphale was stunned at the question. 

"Crowley, if you think that your being a demon-" 

"No, that's not what I meant. I mean, if we weren't the only Earthbound celestial entities, would we still be friends without having that in common?" 

The angel wrinkled his forehead, thinking over the question. 

"Well, Crowley, there's more to you than just being a demon," he answered carefully, "you're funny, understanding, wise-"

"But would you still be friends with me? A runt? A cripple?" she demanded, her voice rising, making Aziraphale flinch. 

"Crowley, I don't know what you're talking about. Why would I care about how your corporation functions?" 

Crowley grimaced, hissing slightly. 

"There'ssssss thesssssse ideasssss going around. I'm sssssure you've heard of it. The humansssssss are calling it eugenics."

Aziraphale stilled. 

"Oh."

"I take it you've heard of it?"

"Indeed," he replied quietly. 

"So you know what the humans think of me. Or at least if I were human. Undesirable," she spat, trying to mask her sadness with disgust. 

"Is that why you haven't been using your cane?"

"Don't want to make myself look any more unfit for life. How 'm I s'pposed to do temptations if the humans avoid me?" she explained.

"But you're only hurting yourself if you strain yourself. There's no shame in using aids," Aziraphale argued.

"No shame, yeah, but now I'm the prime example of what traits to weed out. Crippled, pale, hardly any flesh. I'm lucky I'm a demon, or else they would have tossed me the moment I was born. Jusssst wait until they find out that I'm illiterate, too," she retorted bitterly. 

"But you're not human, dear," Aziraphale tried consoling, "neither am I."

"You know full well the impression I give off, and that's hardly mentioning my….. habits."

Crowley turned to Aziraphale. 

"I'm sorry," she said shamefully, "forgot about you. Guess I don't see anything strange about you, you know?"

"It's easier to see one's own perceived flaws than their friend's," Aziraphale told her reassuringly. 

"You're not flawed, you know that right?"

"I…." Aziraphale hesitated, "I think so. Perhaps I'm becoming too human, fretting about what others think of me."

Now it was Crowley's turn to assure her friend.

"Aziraphale, you can't be too human. And 'sides, I love you the way you are; fussy, intelligent, particular, passionate- s' why you're my friend." 

"You do mean that, don't you?" Aziraphale said quietly. 

"'Course I do, angel, when have I ever-"

"That you love me?" 

Crowley's eyes widened. 

"I- uh- yeah," she stammered.

"Although I don't know if simply 'love' quantifies it. The humans have so many meanings for love, you know, and I don't think they have a word for how I feel about you. You…"

She swallowed.

"You're my oldest friend, Aziraphale, and I find myself feeling a kinship, a partnership to you. You're more than my friend, angel, you're my companion. And yes, if there was ever any doubt, I love you."

Aziraphale fiddled with his hands, unsure of how to respond. Instead, he simply took Crowley's hand and squeezed it affectionately. Crowley squeezed his hand back, clasping the angel's soft hand like a lifeline. 

When their hands parted, they were sitting across from each other, Aziraphale leaning against the chimney.   
The angel reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a packet of cigarettes. He fumbled with the matches, and lit his cigarette, placing it between his plump lips.   
He inhaled the smoke, and released it gently, holding the cigarette between his fingers. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw Crowley looking at him impatiently, with her palm open. 

"Share? I think we both need a relaxant," she chuckled. 

"Oh, of course, how rude of me."

He held out the packet, and Crowley took a cigarette, miraculously rendering it lit, earning an eye roll from Aziraphale. 

"Are you concerned about this eugenics business?" she asked seriously between puffs. 

"It's hard to tell with these humans. They can take an idea, and twist it to either extremity. You're not seriously concerned about your own safety, are you?"

Crowley shrugged.

"Just don't want to be a target. I'm a demon, of course, but I'm worried about people like me, like you. Humans can be so much crueler than Hell, you know."

"But they can also be so much kinder than Heaven," Aziraphale reminded her. 

Crowley gritted her teeth. 

"Let's just hope they don't forget their humanity," she hissed.


End file.
